


Dungeons, Dragons and Detention

by year_of_the_pineapple



Category: South Park
Genre: Comedy, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, Dungeons & Dragons References, Gen, Humor, Parody, Role-Playing Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/year_of_the_pineapple/pseuds/year_of_the_pineapple
Summary: The boys are stuck in detention, so they decide to play a rousing game of Dungeons and Dragons to pass the time.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick/Bebe Stevens, Kyle Broflovski/Red, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	1. The Dwarf's Riddles

**AN: _Italics text is in game_. Regular text is out of game.**

**This is a silly little fic I thought up a while ago. I might do a series of these if I feel like it.**

* * *

Chapter 1 – The Dwarf's Riddles

* * *

_Legend has it that if you travel just a few miles south of Dhuralduhr, several miles above the Serpent River, you'll come across a most innocuous looking building standing all alone on a barren hill._

_The castle overlooks the village of Fairplay and it's twisting, cobbled streets. Obscured by wayward mist and fog; hidden by trees – the strange, abandoned, castle now exists partly in ruins._ _It's looks as though it's been plucked from obscurity and placed precariously on that hill. It's old and decrepit, looking to the world as if it's to crumble underneath it's own gargantuan weight and drop debris onto the townsfolk of Dhuralduhr, killing everything in its path._

_The very location that our heroes - four oddball companions - had been searching; travelling across land and sea to find._

_It's peculiar and somewhat fabled existence had been the subject of speculation for centuries - legends and folklore telling stories of haunted halls, rooms filled with treasures. A dragon's keep. A ghost handmaid. Whatever the tall tale - they all ended the same way: no mere mortal had ever survived it's perilous walls, and not for lack of trying._

_Garrison's Keep._

_Ye, before us stood four weary men, exhausted from relentless travel and countless fight. One armour-clad Paladin knight, one cleric elf of the forest, one ragged human druid and one gargantuan, hideous barbarian orc. The four unlikely allies were all tied to a common goal – their Holy Grail; their raison d'etre._

_"This is it. Garrison's Keep." one of them speaks; the natural commander, his voice low and gravelly. "We made it this far, by we must keep going! We should make haste to retrieve the scroll and complete our sacred task!"_

_There's a general rumbling of agreement amongst the group. The man who had spoken stands triumphant, the de-facto leader. Up to this moment, he had led his motley crew through fire and brimstone, and they had all made it out alive. They were destined for greatness, and it was their fate to retrieve the scroll tonight; he was sure of it._

_However, amongst the harks of glee, there's a voice of dissent in the ranks. A small voice of contention, but a wise one nonetheless. Upon closer inspection, it belongs to a wiry, bookish elven creature wearing a wooden, carved headdress and carrying a bag of beads around a rope on his waist. In his left arm, he clutches an ancient, delicately wood-carved bow. The gathered men turn to stare as the elven warrior speaks out slowly; surely, in contradiction._

_"As always, I admire your bravery, Sir Stanley of the Marshlands. And I am eager to enter the Keep of Garrison, retrieving the sacred scroll of Hypotenuse and fulfilling our quest. However, upon inspection of our forces, I must conclude that we are all of us weary from the fight. Not to mention," the elf coughs. "I think that, erm, Kenh'laith is still finishing up his mead."_

_Sir Stanley of the Marshlands nods sagely, for all good leaders listened to their familiars. "Thank you, high elf Kylor. I, too, hold your opinion in good stead," Sir Stanley nods, turning to his other boon companion. "What say you… erm, 'unnamed orc'?"_

_The hideous monster snarls, crossing his gargantuan green arms over his leather breastplate. "It's Beefwiener. That's my name. Just say it."_

_"I don't want to!"_

_"We all agreed we could pick our own names. C'mon, we all have to say your long-ass name every time. It's Beefwiener or I quit this quest," the orc threatens._

_The weary paladin sighs in verbal defeat. "Fine, whatever, dude. What say you… Beefwiener?"_

_The orc grins conspiratorially, a spark lighting up his dull, ugly features. "Well, since you ask… I say that High Elf Kylor is a pussy and a filthy Jew rat. We should definitely make haste for Garrison's Keep tonight!" he bellows, his voice silencing the group and ringing over the harsh cobbled streets. "Come hell or high water!"_

_The High elfen warrior Kylor steadies his bow on the ground, cocking his head to one side and clearing his throat."Uh, guys? Quick sidebar…"_

_Sir Stanley groans, turning to a man of smaller stature standing in the corner with his nose buried in a large tome. "Again? Timeout, Craig."_

* * *

"You guys suck at this," Craig informs them all, flicking a few pages ahead in his Dungeons and Dragons guide which lays open the desk. "We should have made haste for Garrison's Keep ages ago. Like, last Wednesday at the very least."

Stan splutters indignantly. "Yeah, well, it's not our fault that you made the journey too difficult!"

"Don't question the DM, asshole," Craig flips him the bird. "The dice don't lie. And besides, it wasn't hard. Kenny kept rolling natural twenties last week, and you _still_ took an hour and a half to get across the Dunes of Muffcabbage. You guys keep fighting between yourself all the time, so you never get anywhere."

Cartman scowls at Kyle from across the desk. "Yeah, _Kyle_ ," he hisses.

Kyle rolls his eyes, ignoring the glare. "Look, I'm not trying to be a buzzkill here, but the last time we decided to explore a castle on a school night, we were stuck way past the end of detention. I missed my curfew. My mom went nuts." he pauses. "Can we just do it another time?" he asks, posing the question to Stan and Craig.

Craig blows air out his mouth. "You should invite your mom to play one time. She'd make an awesome banshee witch."

"Erm, objection," Cartman pipes up, interrupting Kyle's response. "Why should the rest of us suffer because Kyle's a pussy?" Cartman raises his counter argument. "I want to play _now_. If High Jew Elf Asshole over there wants to stay in the fucking tavern and slumber, then he can. He's dead weight anyway."

"I am _not_ dead weight, fatass!" Kyle growls. "I'm a goddamned elfen warrior."

"Yeah, yeah. You can shoot from a distance; whatever. No match for the brute strength of an orc."

"Fight me!" Kyle growls, leaping up from his seat.

"Guys, guys," Stan tries to calm them down, ever the diplomat. "Actually, hang on a sec," he turns to Craig, an idea popping into his head. "Could we logistically do that?"

Craig scoffs. "Have the two of them fight?" he asks rhetorically, his voice flat and unenthused. "I mean, whatever. Sure. It's not exactly the point of this game, but since you guys seem to lack even the most basic grasp of D&D in the first place…"

Stan claps his hands together. "Okay, cool. So, we'll solve this one real quick and then let's go Garrison's Keep."

"Stan…" Kyle says warningly, rubbing his temples.

"I know, you got a curfew," Stan says, his voice persuasive. "Look, Kyle, we'll be super quick, okay? No bullshit. We'll get in, we'll get the scroll, and we'll get out." He pauses, a little smile playing on his fight. "After you guys fight."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he pauses, biting his lip. "Okay. Timeout over."

Craig's eyes flit between all of them impatiently. He clears his throat and places his hand back on his D&D compendium. "Fine," he growls. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

_"The orc renegade Beefweiner has insulted me for the last time! I challenge thee to a duel," the Elven cleric declares, readying his bow._

_"Bring it on, asshole!" Beefweiner bellows in response, standing in his combative stance and readying himself to do battle with his sworn enemy. "Your goblin ass is about to get schooled!"_

_"I'm an elf, dickhead."_

_Before they can begin, the fourth member of the group – who had been previously absent – wanders into scene and glances at his two travelling companions about to engage in a contest of strength, with Sir Stanley watching on. "Uh… what's going on?" he asks, clearly surprised by the tension present in the scene before him._

_"Ssh, dude. They're about to fight," Sir Stanley hisses, waving him away. "Where the hell have you been, anyway?"_

_Ken'laith blinks. "Uh, I had to... expel mine bladder...?"_

_"Whatever. Just sit down."_

_"Prepare to die!" Kylor announces, launching his attack – a tirade of arrows – directly into Beefweiner's chest._

_*Kyle rolls a nine*_

_*Cartman rolls an eleven*_

_The large orc stumbles, taking a small number of wounds to the chest. However, his thick, armor-like green skin protects him from any deeper wounds. He emerges relatively unscathed._ _"Really, dude? A ranged attack?" Beefweiner rolls his eyes. "Prepare to lick my nuts, asshole!" he announces, opening his arms and running head-first into Kylor's stomach._

_*Cartman rolls a seven*_

_*Kyle rolls a thirteen*_

_Kylor's superior dexterity, as a Drow elf, allows him to quickly jump out of the way and dodge the attack with ease. Beefweiner stumbles, having missed his target, and almost falls down. His defenses are lowered, and Kylor, being an intelligent creature, uses this opportunity to his advantage. He whips his body round and begins to prepare for his most brutal attack._

_Magic._

_He pulls one of the small blue beads from his mysterious bag and mumbles something into it. "Gar- hon túg naneth," he whispers, and the ball begins to glow._

_Every one of the travellers hold their breath._

_*Kyle rolls a eighteen*_

_*Cartman rolls a five*_

_The forest magic, known only to the wisest of the elves, radiates out from the blue ball and rushes towards his target. It surrounds the orc Beefweiner, who falls helplessly to his knees before his entire body gives way; crumbling beneath his massive frame-"_

_"Ay! I know you're calling me fat, Craig, you little asshole!" he yells out in pain, the feeling draining quickly from his legs. He turns to his attacker, pleading for mercy. "Kylor, what the fuck is this bullshit?" he cries out, suddenly unable to use his legs or arms to get back up off the floor._

_"Paralysis spell," Kylor informs him tauntingly. "Your defences are now zero, fucker."_

_"Um, guys?" Sir Stanley interjects, placing a hand on his old friend Kylor's shoulder. "Can we at least try to keep it medieval? If we do have to do this bullshit…"_

_"Screw that! Kylor just friggin' paralysed me! Reverse it!"_

_"I refuse on principle," Kylor shakes his head, for elves are known in the forest for not only their fortitude, but also their stubbornness. "Unless you comply with my demands."_

_There's a pregnant pause, and Beefweiner considers his position. He mumbles into the ground. "And what are your demands?"_

_Kylor grins. "I want you to repeat after me: 'I'm Eric Cartman, and I'm a fucking fatass orc and nobody loves me."_

_"Goddamnit Kyle!" Cartm-… uh, the orc Beefweiner rages. "TIMEOUT!"_

* * *

"Another timeout?!" Stan moans, his head resting in his hands. "Kyle. Get the fuck off Cartman. Cartman, quit being an asshole to Kyle."

There's a pause. Kyle rolls his eyes, and stands up from where he's been sitting on Cartman's stomach, pinning him to the classroom floor. He dusts himself off and haughtily sits back on his chair. "Whatever. I made my point. Drow elves kick ass, orcs are lame."

"Nuh-uh!" Cartman springs up now that he's free of Kyle's restraint. "You're just OP since you got those stupid beads. Those things are _way_ too powerful; such a sneaky Jew move."

"I think you'll find that as an elf I have points in dexterity, wisdom _and_ intelligence," Kyle hits back. "That's just what you get for putting all your stupid points in strength."

"For fuck's sake, have you guys _now_ sufficiently fucked around?" Craig interjects. "Can we please just get on with the game?"

Stan bites his lip, trying his best to calm down both of his friends. "Agreed, if we're going to get to Garrison's today we really gotta quit getting sidetracked by shit like this," he agrees. He hesitates, sparing a glance at Kyle as his lips twitch up just a tad in amusement. "Although that _was_ a pretty nice take-down, Kyle." He pauses for a second, and then turns to Craig. "Hey, does this mean that Cartman can't come with us? If he's paralysed, and all…"

Craig glances at Stan, and then Kenny, and shrugs. "Well, it's not really my job to tell you guys how to play this game, but since you're all clearly incompetent… Kenny can use his healing enchantment to remove the paralysis. Although it's kind of a waste of the power – he won't be able to use it again for another few turns."

Stan eyes up Kenny. "That okay, Ken?"

Kenny nods, sipping his energy drink and barely paying attention. "Sure, whatever."

"Cool. Back to the game then, guys?"

* * *

_"Now that we have settled aside our differences and grown stronger as a team, let there be no further ado!" Sir Stanley announces, drawing forth his sword and commanding his noble steed to gallop forward._

_His three familiars follow closely in his stead; weapons raised and eyes peeled for oncoming threats as they valiantly traverse the open fields towards the foot of Mackey's Hill._

_The four motley travellers happen upon a young lady; a pretty blonde wench wearing a milkmaid's outfit. She looks at the men, her face indicating great concern for their fates. Sir Stanley brings his horse to a stop, deciding to speak to the lady before they continue onward._

_"Good morrow," he starts. "How are you on this fine day?"_

_"I couldn't help but worry that the four of yous seemed to be headed for that there castle. Didn't you know that it's Garrison's Keep – the most dangerous of places for men such as yourselves?"_

_Stan nods and smiles knowingly. "Ah, but you needn't worry. For I am a Paladin Knight of the highest honor. This is my second-in-command, a spiritual elf from deep in the South Forest. We are also travelling with Kenh'laith, a mystical Druid with healing powers, and our resident Orc, um, Beefweiner."_

_The young women snickers but holds her steadfast gaze upon the men. "It is a pleasure to meet such brave and noble men," she starts. "But I cannot allow you to climb this hill to the castle. Upon my honor as a citizen of this fine town – and someone who has grown into a young woman in these village walls – I must heartily implore you to stop in your tracks."_

_"Oh, uh…" Sir Stanley frowns, and turns to their bookkeeper. "As a Paladin Knight, I would never allow my party to dishonor ourselves by going against the wishes of a concerned citizen," he frowns. "However, we sort of really need to go inside the castle and get, um, this scroll?" he continues._

_"I cannot allow it! Many have gone before you, and many have died!" the lady begins to wail._

_Sir Stanley sighs. "If I cannot convince you that our quest is noble and our hearts are pure… perhaps one of my group might convince you to let us pass in peace?" Sir Stanley suggests, his eyes scanning over his familiars. They rest upon the Druid, and he clears his throat expectantly. "Kenh'laith?"_

_Kenh'laith shrugs. "Uh, sure. I can try," he says a little dubiously._

_*Kenny rolls a seventeen*_

_He swings one leg around his stallion and lands suavely upon the ground. Approaching the blonde mistress, he takes one hand and places upon it a single chaste kiss. "I am enchanted by your radiance. Please, tell me your name."_

_The lady swoons in the presence of such a wise, mystical Druid. "My name is Baetrice – but you, Sir Kenh'laith, may call me Bebe," she announces._

_"I am not yet a sir," Kenh'laith admits. "However, if being knighted is a quality that you wish for in a man… I would climb the highest mountain; slay the deadliest dragon for that honor."_

_Baetrice blushes deeply. "You flatter me, Kenh'laith."_

_"Please, call me Ken," he nods his head forward as a sign of respect. "Please, Baetrice, if you would consider allowing our team your blessing to climb this here hill and reach the Keep of Garrison – we would all be... erm, greatly in debt to you for eternity. And stuff."_

_"This is bullshit," Bullweiner interjects in a hiss, tapping his fingers against the reigns of his horse impatiently. "Couldn't we just trample her to death?"_

_"Shut up, we don't do things that way." Kylor snaps at him. "Let Kenny just do his weird charisma thing and charm her, and then we can get on with the quest."_

_Baetrice curtseys at the group. "So be it," she announces, stepping to one side and allowing Sir Stanley and the others to pass freely. "You have my blessing. But please heed my warning! There are creatures in the Keep… creatures so horrible that they are seldom spoken of. Take caution!"_

_"We give your our word that we will return safety," Sir Stanley promises, lowering his head in a bow. "Thank you, Baetrice of Dhuralduhr."_

_"Yeah, thank you," Kylor agrees, following closely behind the Paladin._

_"Whatever, bitch," Bullweiner scoffs as he passes her by._

_Kenh'laith pauses, and then looks the lady up and down admiringly. "Uh, you guys? I'm gonna hang back a little. I'll catch you up in a sec, okay?" he grins._

_The others mutter their words of acknowledgement as Kenh'laith and Baetrice… ahem, erm… begin to become better acquainted at the foot of the hill._

_"Wait, wait..." Sir Stanley pauses, sighing. "Quick timeout."_

_"Sure," Kenh'laith shrugs. "Whatever."_

* * *

"Look, Bebe… no offence, but we're trying to play Dungeons and Dragons. You had your little cameo, can't you find someone else's lap to keep warm?" Craig sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're seriously on the precipice of actually doing something, for once, and if Kenny's stuck here with you he can't be in the castle helping the others."

Bebe shrugs, like she couldn't possibly give a damn. "Well, why can't I come along?"

"Because. You don't have a class, or any skills, and we haven't previously discussed it. I can't suddenly write in a new character…" Craig moans. "This is already a mess as it is!"

Cartman interjects. "Also, no chicks!"

"Hey," Kyle frowns. "We never agreed on that rule…" he points out. "Red asked me if she could join as my Elven queen one time, and I told her that'd be fine."

Bebe rolls her eyes. "If your stupid game is going to interrupt my detention… then I at least want to join in. It's totally lame, so I'll just like, accompany you guys. I won't actually do anything."

"Ugh!" Craig throws his hands up in the air. "Fine! Whatever! Pick a damn class!"

Bebe places a finger on her lips. "Hmm…" she hums. "Can I be a sorceress?"

Craig shakes his head. "No, we already have _two_ magical characters."

"Okay, then… a princess?" she tries.

"A _princess_? If you're a princess, then why the hell are you dressed as a milkmaid and standing at the bottom of a hill?" Craig asks. "Besides, 'princess' isn't a class. It just doesn't make sense."

"Fine, then, I'll just be a damn milkmaid."

"You… can be a tavern wench, if you like?" Kenny suggests, a wry smile appearing on his features. "You can put all your points in charisma, for your womanly wiles and natural feminine charm."

"I like that! Tavern Wench Baetrice, of Du… Duraldor?" she attempts. "Is that right?"

"Dhuralduhr," Kyle corrects. "But whatever. I'm cool with Bebe joining."

"Yeah, I don't care," Stan shrugs. "Wendy kinda mentioned that she'd maybe like to join our next campaign, or something. So fine by me."

Cartman grumbles but doesn't raise a significant complaint – he's still slightly sore about how easily Kyle had managed to pin him to the ground earlier, so he doesn't kick up a fuss.

"Then it's settled. Timeout over."

* * *

_Two men, an orc, an elf and one tavern wench ride up the steep hill, their horses hooves hitting the soft earth and causing more stones to tumble downwards with each step. Baetrice the tavern wench clings onto Kenh'laith's back as he rides._

_Sir Stanley valiantly leads their way to the top of the hill, and after a long and perilous few hours of riding, they reach their destination._

_Sir Stanley dismounts his steed; using his rope to tie up the gallant creature to a nearby tree. Kylor follows suit and the two men approach the door with a curious eye. The gate to the castle is a large; dark oaken door bolted heavily shut with a large, wrought iron latch._

_"It's locked," Kylor announces, after some inspection._

_"No shit," Bullweiner retorts._

_"Well, get off your fat ass and try and kick the door in. You've got the most strength," Kylor helpfully suggests. Bullweiner begrudgingly complies, taking a running start to the door and attempting to cave it in using his large, robust shoulders clad in armour._

_*Cartman rolls a six*_

_The door springs back with an almost human punch; instantly bruising Bullweiner's shoulder. "Fuck!" he yells out, suddenly in agony. "Kenh'laith. Heal me."_

_Kenh'laith sighs. "Alright, fine. But this is the last time…" he grumbles, placing his magical hands upon the wound and saying the divine incantation._

_"Hmm," Kylor scratches his head. "Sir Stanley, perhaps you could try to slash a hole in the door with your superior swordsmanship?"_

_Sir Stanley pulls his shining sword gloriously out of it's sheath and strikes a pose as he prepares to do battle with the large, wooden door._

_*Stan rolls a three*_

_Sir Stanley's sword misses the mark and instead becomes stuck in the frame of the door. He tries to pull it out, but is unsuccessful and ends up falling down and hurting his knee._

_"Christ…" Sir Stanley swears. "That sucked."_

_"Perhaps I could try to use my forest magic on the wood?" Kylor suggests, a little wanly. "I did have some magic for manipulating wood. Although, we're not in the forest, so it's pretty weak right now…" he adds hastily. "Can I do that?"_

_*Kyle rolls a twelve*_

_"Okay…" Kylor says, before hesitantly attempting an incantation. The spell he conjures is not at all potent - it glows very faintly and only manages to pull Sir Stanley's sword out of the door. The lock, however, does not budge._

_One, two, three faces turn to the blonde Druid._

_"It's on you, Kenh'laith."_

_"Well, I don't really have any door-opening powers." Kenh'laith shrugs. "I'm just going to knock."_

_"You can't just knock," Sir Stanley splutters. "That's ridiculous."_

_"Why? Someone might answer. None of your attempts worked," Kenh'laith shrugs, and raps his knuckles in three short bursts against the large entrance. "Perhaps we will be lucky."_

_*Kenny rolls a four*_

_Nobody answers. The group titters at Kenh'laith's failure._

_"Well, shit," Kenh'laith sighs. "That was a flop. Guess it's all on you, Baetrice."_

_"What am I supposed to do?" she frowns. "I'm just a tavern wench."_

_"You could start by fetching me a sandwich and a mead?" Bullweiner suggests in mirth. The group largely ignores him. "You guys are terrible friends."_

_"Hm," Baetrice shrugs, thinking hard. "I could… maybe use my hairslide to try and pick the lock?"_

_*Bebe rolls a natural twenty*_

_Baetrice plucks a metal hairslide from her ponytail and quickly, expertly, fumbles around inside the lock for a few moments. The door easily and silently slides open, allowing them all entrance inside the massive halls. The halls are warm; inviting even. The scent of freshly baked cookies flirts with the group's nostrils, intermingling pleasantly with the scent of pine from the door -_

_"Well, this seems unlikely," Kylor frowns. "Why would it smell like cookies?"_

_There's a whisper in the air, a faint voice calling to them. The voice sounds strangely familiar yet wise. It says: 'Don't question the GM, assholes…'_

_"Ooh! I bet it's a trap. Let's not follow the scent of cookies," Baetrice wisely suggests, albeit letting out a squeal of excitement._

_Beefwiener grunts and shrugs. "Screw that. I've been travelling with you assholes for days. If there's cookies then I'm definitely having some. And if it's a trap; so be it."_

_Ever the diplomat, Sir Stanley turns to his group. "What say the rest of ye, fellow travellers? Shalt we follow the scent or ignore it entirely?"_

_"Follow!" cries the Orc Beefwiener._

_"I'll follow Baetrice," Kenh'laith murmurs, clearly enchanted with the young lady._

_"Why not," Kylor shrugs. "That's two and two. Sir Stanley? Thine is the deciding vote."_

_Sir Stanley hesitates, biting his lip. "Fine. We'll make haste towards the kitchen, to discover the source of the smell of the cookies!"_

_The group surges forward, weapons drawn. Stanley holds his sword; Kylor with his bow. Bullweiner raises his formidable fists while Kenh'laith wields a sharpened dagger. Baetrice holds up her hairclip in lieu of an actual weapon, and they collectively follow the scent, lead by the brave and terrible Beefwiener._

_The stretched-out hallway seems to pad on forever. No paintings adorn the wall; only rotting wallpaper and the stains of what can only be assumed to be blood. Not a little blood, either, but large; human-sized stains splattered all around. They eventually reach a large, brown door – just slightly ajar – where the scent of freshly baked cookies seems to be emanating from._

_Sir Stanley decides to take action, nudging the door open with his foot. "But wait. I should try and sneak – in case there's a monster in there."_

_"A monster baking cookies?" Kylor folds his arms, raising his eyebrow rather skeptically at his Paladin familiar._

_*Stan rolls a four*_

_Stan's foot barely hits the door, but as it opens, the most cacophonous creaking sound emerges from it's rusted hinges. All eyes turn to Kylor, who rolls his eyes._

_He barges headfirst into the room. Inside, there stands a knarled, ugly old Dwarf standing on a stool and holding a comically large spoon. He's mixing something in his hand. As the group enters, he turns to stare at them, freezing in place._

_Kenh'laith clears his throat. "Uh… hi. What's your name, dwarf dude?"_

_*Kenny rolls a fifteen*_

_The dwarf waits a long second, and then cracks a genuine – if a little unsettling – smile at the men. They get the feeling that he's possibly not all there, just from the way his words come out._

_"Hello boys and girls!" he grins, waggling his eyebrows. "My name is… Barbrody. I'm the cook here. What are you doing in this here castle of mine?"_

_"You own this castle?" Baetrice asks, frowning._

_"Well, tech-ni-cally speaking. My master owns the castle. I just work 'ere'."_

_The men share a look and Sir Stanley stands forward. "And… who is your master?"_

_The Dwarf cowers away in fear at the mere mention. "I cannot possibly utter his name. He will know if I utter his name in this place…"_

_"Hmm…" Stan scratches his beard. "Well, can you at least tell us where we might be able to find the Sacred Scroll of Hypotenuse? We're kinda looking for it…"_

_"YOU DARE SPEAK OF THE SACRED SCROLL OF HYPOTENUSE?!" the Dwarf suddenly shrieks, causing each member of the party of five to jam their hand against their ears in quick response._

_"Jesus," Kylor grumbles. "Look, we need the scroll. You have it or not?"_

_Barbrody smiles an ugly, twisted smile. "I will tell you where I keep the sacred text," he lowers his voice several decibels into a terrible whisper. "If you answer me… these questions three…"_

_"TIMEOUT!" Kylor suddenly yells, throwing his hands up in the air in irritation._

* * *

"What now?!" Craig groans. "We were just getting to the good part! I was about to give you guys three riddles to solve! It was going to be excellent, and you ruined it!"

Kyle sighs, rubbing his temples. "I'm sorry, but you guys _know_ I have to get home soon. The last time we attempted to solve _one_ riddle we were stuck arguing about it for days. Let alone three!" he complains.

"It's not our fault that Jews _are_ terrible at riddles," Cartman accuses, pointing his finger at Kyle.

"We're not terrible. We're just too literal-minded," Kyle snaps back, a little crabby. "Can we just pause it there?"

"No," Craig shakes his head. "Not if you want me to ever be the Dungeon Master for you guys again."

"But-"

Stan interjects, using a softer voice on Kyle. "Come on, Kyle, this'll be fun. And besides, Bebe might be able to help us…" he trails off, his eyes shifting to Bebe as he realises that she's somehow made her way onto Kenny's lap and the two are giggling at one another, completely oblivious to the game around them. "Or… maybe not, I guess…"

"Five minutes!" Kyle slams a finger down on the table. "But no longer," he checks his phone. "It's already late. I really gotta get going."

"Promise, promise," Stan wheedles. "Five minutes. Craig… do your thing."

* * *

_The Dwarf cackles suddenly, rubbing his hands together with glee._

_"Your first riddle is this… what comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?"_

_Cartman slams his hands down on the oak table in rapturous glee. "KENNY!"_

_Sir Stanley coughs into his open fist. "You mean… Kenh'laith."_

_"Yeah, yeah. Sure."_

_"NO!" Barbrody announces, leaping off his chair and taking two steps towards the group. "YOU ARE WRONG!" He raises his hands to their air, murmuring some strange words to himself. At that moment, a torrent of flames to fly out of his outstretched palms towards Beefwiener the Orc. "TRY AGAIN!"_

_*Cartman rolls a one*_

_His attempts to counter the flames backfire, and accidentally spread the fire to the whole party. Every member of the party takes significant damage; the raw open flame burning their skin as they all collectively fail to effectively shield themselves from the onslaught._

_"Urgh, Beefwiener - you idiot!" Kenh'laith bemoans._

_"Not my fault these Jew dice hate me…"_

_"THE DICE DO NOT LIE!" screeches Barbrody. "ANSWER MY RIDDLE!"_

_"Well, this is going downhill fast…" Kylor sighs, turning to Sir Stanley. "Perhaps we should make haste in leaving this castle, and perhaps try again whence we are less tired?" he lightly suggests. Stan opens his mouth to agree, when he's interrupted by a high-pitched female voice._

_"H-hey, guys?" Baetrice pipes up, from where she's standing next to Kenh'laith and clutching onto his arm. All five other faces in the room turn to her expectantly; surprised to hear her speak. "I've actually heard this one. It's the letter 'm'."_

_Kylor blinks, counting something up on his fingers. "Oh yeah…" he mutters, a little surprised. "You're actually right."_

_"CORRECT!" Barbrody cackles. "BUT NOW, IT'S TIME FOR THE NEXT RIDDLE!" he pauses, waiting until there's complete silence, his words ringing out against the old stone tiles of the kitchen walls. "…what runs around a city, but never moves?"_

_There's a silence and Sir Stanley and Kylor begin to discuss._

_"Runs around a city? Is it like… the wind, or something?" Sir Stanley thinks aloud, his eyebrows sunk deep in concentration._

_"Ssh!" Kylor shushes, places a conspiratorial finger on his lips. "Don't speak so loud, he'll shoot flames if you get it wrong," Kylor hisses. "Besides, the wind doesn't really run, so I don't think that's right."_

_"Hey! I know the answer!" Beefwiener interjects. "It's KYLOR'S MOM!" he reveals with a face full of mirth. "She runs her fat mouth all the time, but she never moves 'cause she's such a fatass!"_

_"WRONG AGAIN!" Barbrody taunts. "I hope you like eating flames..."_

_"Oh, screw this!" Kylor announces, plucking another magical bead from his arsenal and readying himself to cast a spell upon his Orc companion. "One more word from you and I'll kill you!"_

_"To hell with that-" Beefwiener starts, but is cut off._

_Stanley clears his throat. "You're already low health, fatass, just maybe don't piss him off." Sir Stanley wisely suggests. His eyes shift nervously to Kenny and Bebe as he clears his throat. "So I actually think I know the real answer to this one."_

_"Go on…"_

_"It is… walls? Walls run, I guess, around cities? I think? And they don't exactly mo-"_

_"CORRECT!" Barbrody screeches, making all of them jump as his grin stretches even wider than they previously thought possible. "And now. For the final riddle…" he pauses, taking a good hard look at each one of his victims faces. "What is more useful… when is it broken?"_

_Beefwiener's mouth twitches upward in a sneer. "I got this one…"_

_"No!" Sir Stanley groans. "Dude, know when to shut up!"_

_Kylor's fists clench around his magical beads in quickly pooling anger._

_Beefwiener continues on, obliviously undeterred. "The answer is Kylor's Mom's hym-"_

_He never gets to finish the answer, because at that exact point, Kylor throws one of his red beads against the floor. The result is a violent explosion which knocks Beefwiener back several paces and causes him to groan in agony; clutching his nose. He takes significant damage, and-_

_"For fuck's sake, timeout!" he whines._

* * *

"You broke my nose, asshole!" Cartman whines through a bloody nose. Stan rushes to find a tissue so that he can stop some of the blood from pouring on the floor, while Kyle tries to wipe some of the blood on his knuckles off on his jeans.

Meanwhile, Kenny seems to find the situation rather amusing. "I guess the answer to the riddle is… Cartman's nose?" he suggests helpfully.

Craig sighs, his head resting in his hands and his eyes sent heavenward. "No, the answer was _not_ Cartman's nose."

"Well, it might as well have been…" Kenny shrugs. "Fatass had it coming."

Craig clenches his jaw together. "Do. You. Think. We. Could. Get. Through. One. Game. Without. Someone. Punching. Someone."

Kenny cracks a smile. "Oh yeah. Forgot about that, dude. How's your face?" he asks Craig with just a hint of amusement, remembering the rather chaotic and somewhat emotionally charged events of the previous attempt at D&D.

"Painful," Craig seethes, clutching a still-bruised jaw.

"Ah… sorry." Kenny tells him sheepishly. "To be fair, it was mostly an accident."

Craig shrugs, watching Stan helplessly try to clean up some of the blood still pouring out of Cartman's face; while simultaneously holding him back as he tries to take pot-shots at Kyle. "I'll get you, you Jew rat! Just watch me!"

"Oh, screw off." Kyle rolls his eyes, and then turns to his Dungeon Master. "Look, I'm really sorry, Craig, man. He was _really_ pissing me off."

Craig scoffs. "It's fine. I was just about to kill him off anyway. Or, ahem, _Barbrody_ was." he sends a disdainful look around the room. "You could have just cast a spell. You didn't have to actually punch him."

Kyle purses his lips. "I feel that I did."

"AY!"

"Hey," Stan suggests, trying to steer the group away from this conversation. "Could we... maybe start from the same place next week? I really feel like we were about to make some progress..." he asks Craig.

"No way."

"Oh, come on Craig. Please. We really want to play, we're just… we're just _bad_ at this game. We need you to help us," Stan tries his best to be persuasive but realises he's failed as he watches Craig slowly shake his head in refusal. "What if Kyle does your homework for a week?"

Kyle splutters in objection. "Erm, what?"

Stan frowns. "Well, to be fair, you did ruin our game today, Kyle. I think you at least owe us that much."

Kyle rolls his eyes and crosses his hands over his chest. "Fine, I'll do your stupid homework for a stupid week if you let us play this stupid game again next week." he swivels back to Stan. "Happy?"

Craig considers this. "Hmm, that is tempting. I could probably do with some better grades," he mulls it over, sratching his beard. "Fine, fine. Consider it done. Small price to pay for an A."

"Brilliant!" Stan exclaims. "Thanks, Kyle," he slaps an appreciate hand against Kyle's back, who in turn offers up a dirty look and a rather unconvincing 'you're welcome'.

Craig stands up and begins to pack up his belongings. "Well, I'm heading off. Detention is over, and I've wasted the whole time hanging out with you turds," he denounces, flinging his bag over his shoulder and flouncing out of the room in a dramatic moment.

"See you next week!" Stan calls out.

Cartman's nose finally stops bleeding and he turns to Kyle, glaring. "I'll kill your stupid elf next week, asshole. I'll keep attacking you until I roll a natural twenty and then I'll rip your stupid elf guts out-"

"Oh, quit bitching," Kenny punches him lightly on the arm, good-naturedly steering him away from Kyle. "He already punched you once, why are you so keen to get another one off him? Here's my advice: I would stay away from Kyle if you don't want more broken appendages."

Cartman doesn't respond, still furious, but he does keep his mouth shut.

Looking at the pool of blood on the floor, something occurs to Stan. "You know, they should really be supervising these detentions…" he murmurs in thought, as the rest of the boys finish packing up their belongings and begin to file out of the room after their Dungeon Master.

Kyle shrugs. "Well, yeah. But there isn't anyone, because this school sucks eggs," he replies, holding the door open with his foot for the group.

Bebe stops in her tracks; freezes dead still. "Oh my GOD!" she declares. It happens so suddenly that it causes both Kenny and Cartman to crash into each other behind her; like a pair of rather comical dominoes. "Guys!" she announces, snapping her fingers as if a stroke of brilliance has just hit her. " _Eggs_!"

"Um…" Kenny starts.

"What's more useful when it's broken! An egg!" she grins, utterly pleased with herself. "That's the answer to the third riddle."

Kenny's forced to chuckle and nod in agreement. "You know... I think that could actually be the right answer."

Kyle laughs out loud. "Holy shit, you guys. Bebe is potentially better at this game than all of the rest of us combined," he chuckles. "Especially for a lowly tavern wench."

Cartman and Stan share a look and Stan swivels round on his heel to face her.

"Hey, Bebe…?" he asks innocently. "What are you doing this time next week?"

* * *

**Yeah, I know I don't really follow strict D &D rules. Fight me, this is a comedy South Park fanfic**


	2. The Six Doors

**AN: More ridiculousness. Don't follow the plot too closely**

* * *

_Chapter 2 - The Six Doors_

* * *

_A few miles south of Dhuralduhr; North of the Great Halls of Tom's Rhinoplasty – there's a castle on a hill. Legend and folklore had for years frightened villagers and intrepid explorers; telling of this castle and its famed ability to best even the most worthy of visitors._

_Over the centuries, rumors had spread of ghosts, of dragons, of a riddle-telling dwarf. No mere mortal had ever made it through unscathed; no mere mortal had ever unlocked the secrets that it held._

_The scroll of Hypotenuse. Prophecies spanning centuries had told that the scroll would grant it's reader the ancient and revered of triangles, known to only a few and fully understood by even fewer._

_Today, not one, but seven - determined but quite possibly foolhardy - individuals gather together to complete their quest. To retrieve the scroll and discover the power of triangles._

_The de facto leader was Sir Stanley of the Marshlands. A brave and charismatic Paladin warrior who bravely led his motley crew into battle time and time again. In his hand, he carries the Sword of A Thousand Truths._

_His second-in-command – Kylor the Elven cleric. As wise as he is adept at magic; Kylor's intellect and razor-sharp wit is matched only by his rather quick temper. His primary weapon is his spell casting using magical beads found deep in the Shinglesham forest, and his carved wooden bow._

_A healer Druid named Kenh'laith. Mystical, oft misunderstood, he's a man of few words. When he does speak, however, the words often contain amazing and powerful philosophic truths._

_A barbarian Orc named Beefwiener. A huge, towering oaf of almost eight feet and almost as wide – Beefwiener is an extremely powerful tool on the battlefield, but not much else. His weapon of choice is his trusty Axe – named Gimli – which he carries over his shoulder everywhere he goes._

_Baetrice the tavern wench. By nightfall she practices her stealth and dexterity by sneaking into buildings and stealing goods; by day you can find her serving delicious beverages to weary travellers at Raisins tavern._

_Crimson Arkax, also known as The Crimson Fucker, a dragonborn with a dangerous obsession with fire which borders on the pyromaniac. Short-tempered, fiery; passionate. Her methods are barbaric, but there's nobody greater feared on the battlefield. Her only spell is to summon fireballs, but she's found it to be very effective._

_Tweek, a small and dexterous sprite of the forest. He can dodge and parry from any attack; melee or ranged. Often, enemies will forget that he is even present due to his unassuming personality and excellent stealth. However, he can be a little twitchy._

* * *

"Okay, so…" Craig coughs, wetting his tongue after reading out every new trait on the character sheets he'd had his group fill out last night. "Couple things."

Kyle and Red share an anticipatory glance at one another.

Stan cracks his knuckles against the desk. "Go ahead, dude."

Craig clears his throat again. "Well, we now have _two_ barbarians," he clears his throat. "It's cool, but just keep it in mind that you can't always just… bash your way out of situations…" he pauses. "Having a lot of brute strength can actually be detrimental for a group."

"Sure," Red nods, yawning. "Double the barbarism. What's not to love?"

" _Secondly_ , Bebe," Craig nods in her direction, where she's painting her nails and barely concentrating on the conversation. "I liked the stealth touch."

"Thanks," she flashes him a smile and a wink, taking a second to look up from her blood red nails. "It was Kenny's idea, actually."

"And lastly, I have to address some of the names. I think it might be getting out of control. I mean… Red? The Crimson _Fucker_?" he sighs. "It's just not really very in-keeping with the medieval theme."

Red splutters, pointing at Cartman, scowling. "If he's going to be called _Beefwiener_ , I want a badass nickname!"

Stan objects, ever the fair-minded friend. "To be fair, isn't it a little sexist? Not to mention, copyri-"

"For fuck's sake," Cartman cuts him off with a groan, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his voluptuous chest. "Kyle, can you control your woman please?"

"Eat my entire ass, Cartman!"

There's a trepidatious silence, broken only when Tweek titters in amusement.

"Kyle…" Stan says warningly, feeling the heat practically radiating from his best friend. "Just drop it. I really want to get on with this game without you, or anyone else, beating on Cartman, okay?"

Kyle rolls his eyes. "Fine," he enunciates, and then glares at Cartman. "And she can speak for herself, fatass," Kyle growls back, and then turns to Red. "Sorry about him."

Cartman smiles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I wasn't talking about _Red_. I was talking about your girlfriend," he says again, waggling his eyebrows and looking pointedly at Stan.

Kyle's nostrils flare and Red guffaws. "He's got you there, Kyle," she slaps him on the back, wheezing with amusement.

"Why are you on _his_ side?" he asks. "I stood up for you with all the Pyromancer crap, even though I really wanted you to be my elven queen…"

Cartman splutters. " _Gay_ ," he says, in between faux coughs. Everyone largely ignores him.

Red shrugs, patting Kyle on the shoulder. "No offence, but elves are kind of shit."

"Hah!" Cartman guffaws. "Kyle, your girlfriend might actually not be a _total_ buzzkill." Cartman snorts, reaching out his fist for Red to pound, but she just stares it a little dubiously.

Tweek screams out in confusion, flailing his arms around. " _Guys_! This is all too much! Can we just play the stupid game already?"

Craig slams his fist down. "Thank you, Tweek. I quite agree," he says through his teeth. "Let's go."

* * *

_Six of the bravest warriors, and Tweek, stand just outside the doors to the great and mighty Garrison's Keep._

_"Let us once again attempt to conquer!" Sir Stanley of the Marshlands announces with a great deal of pomposity. "Crimson, Tweek… I must warn you before we begin this quest. Garrison's Keep is a truly terrible and dangerous place. You must keep your wits about you…" Stanley's eyes flit over to Tweek for a long second before flitting back to Red. "Or you will surely die."_

_"Noted," Crimson nods sagely. "I shall prepare my fireballs for battle."_

_Tweek stays silent, and Sir Stanley clears his throat, continuing his explanation. "The last time we made this perilous journey, we were beat by a riddle-telling Dwarf named Barbrody," Sir Stanley. "However, now that we know the answers to thine riddles, we will surely emerge victorious!"_

_A rousing cheer goes up throughout the group, and Sir Stanley bursts through the twin oaken doors with a flurry, his valiant team of warriors following suit behind. The familiar smell of chocolate chip cookies wafts through their nostrils, but this time, the inviting smell is intermingled with something a little more sinister._

_"Follow me to the kitchen!" Stanley announces. "Where we shall beat this riddle-telling Dwarf once and for all!"_

_They reach the end of the hallway and Stan slams the door open, bravely staring the Dwarf up and down before clearing his throat and beginning to speak._

_"Barbrody the Dwarf," he starts. "We demand that you tell us where the Scroll of Hypotenuse is kept at once!"_

_Barbrody cackles, rubbing his hands together with glee. "You again," he says slowly, his voice cracking uncomfortably. "I was hoping that you would come back."_

_"No time for your bullshit, midget!" Beefwiener declares. "Tell us where the scroll is, jackass."_

_"I will tell you. If you answer me these riddles three!"_

_Kenh'laith excitedly elbows Baetrice, encouraging her to stand forward. But Barbrody isn't finished. "And if you fail to correctly guess the answers… then I will be forced to call upon the castle hounds to tear your faces off."_

_Baetrice frowns uneasily. "Wait, that wasn't the deal last time…"_

_Kenh'laith hisses in her ear. "Don't worry, babe, I'm good with animals – that's my whole thing."_

_"ANSWER ME THIS!" the Dwarf suddenly announces, causing everybody in sight to jump out of their skin. "First riddle," he licks his lips, his eyes scanning over the group of expectant travellers. "I have rivers and no water. Forests and no trees. Towns and no houses. What am I?"_

_There's a long silence, and it begins to dawn on them._

_"What the fuck?" Kenh'laith suddenly blurts out. "Th-that wasn't one of them, asshole!"_

_Barbrody grins mischievously. "Every day; new riddles." He pauses, smilingly. "Or didn't I mention?"_

_There's a collective groan, and Sir Stanley blows air out of his cheeks in annoyance. "Uh… Baetrice?" he asks, tapping his foot against the ground with a great deal of impatience. "You wouldn't happen to know the answer, would you?"_

_She squints for a second or two, contemplating the riddle. "Uh…" she offers up after a second. "Look, Sir Stan...ley. I'm sorry, but I've really never heard this one."_

_"Guys…" Tweek mumbles something under his breath, but people only catch the end. "…nap."_

_"Tweek, you can't have a nap! We're in the middle of playing Dun-" Sir Stanley curses and corrects himself. "Fuck, I mean… exploring this castle. It's not time for a nap. Just... have a coffee or something."_

_"Yeah, give whizz-kid more caffeine, that'll totally help…" Baetrice sasses, rolling her eyes._

_"I shall ask it one more time…" Barbrody growls, interrupting the group's bickering. "I have rivers," he pauses, licking his lips as he looks at every member of the party in turn. "But no water. FORESTS!" he bellows. "...but no trees! I have towns, and no houses. What am I?"_

_"Fuck this," Kylor snaps, and rapidly pulls an arrow from it's quiver and takes aim at Barbrody. "Prepare to die!"_

_"Wait, what the fuck?!" Sir Stanley yelps, jumping up to stop Kylor's arrow from leaving the bow._

_*Kyle rolls a ten*_

_*Stan rolls a three*_

_Sir Stanley's attempt at diverting the arrow fails utterly, and he falls to the ground with a rather embarrassing thud. Kylor's arrow misses the Dwarf's eye by a small margin; his arrow flying instead into the poor creature's shoulder as it let out a blood-curdling scream._

_One, two, three whole seconds pass._

_And then hell breaks loose in the castle kitchen._

_Beefwiener dissolves into hysterical laughter, clutching his large belly and pointing at the dead Dwarf with mirth. Tweek starts freaking out, tearing out his hair and uttering anxious sentences – which the group largely ignores._

_Sir Stanley spins on his heel to face the elf Kylor, a storm gathering on his face._ _"What the hell, dude?! You just_ shot _him!" Sir Stanley explodes. "You can't just_ shoot _him. We needed information from him!"_

_"Look, I really hate riddles," he shrugs, observing the Dwarf's still form. "Besides, dude. I'm pretty sure that he's still alive."_

_Crimson Arkax guffaws with laughter and rubs her hands together with determination. "We could torture him for information!" she grins. "Twist the arrow until he spills the beans!"_

_"That's a bit dark, isn't it?" Baetrice coughs politely. "Or, uh, we could just ask? Like, nicely? I'll use my charisma and everything?"_

_Kenh'laith holds her shoulder, shaking his head. "No, dude, I really think we gotta answer his riddles…"_

_"Yeah, well, none of us know the answer to his stupid riddles!" Sir Stanley scowls, tapping his foot. "Besides, he's not going to help us now that we've tried to_ murder _him-"_

_"Um, I actually do know –" Tweek starts to spit out, but he's cut off by Sir Stanley, who has come to a decision. Meanwhile, the felled Dwarf is clutching his shoulder in pain, crying out loudly in agony as he writhes around on the kitchen floor._

_For the first time, the travellers become aware of how loud they are being; and Stanley begins to wonder if they could be alerting another potential adversary to their arrival at the castle._ _"Okay, fine. We can try something else," Sir Stanley sighs, glaring at Kylor. "But... make haste, because all this screaming is making a scene, and we need to get out of here before someone else in the castle hears…"_

_"Okay, okay," Baetrice announces. "I'll use charisma!"_

_"On a dying, screaming Dwarf?" Bullweiner laughs. "Go ahead, ho!"_

_*Bebe rolls a five*_

_"Hey, sexy…" she starts, leaning in closer to Barbrody; who is currently bleeding out on the kitchen floor. She flashes him a small amount of cleavage and winks. "Wanna be super quiet but also tell us where the scroll is?"_

_Barbrody's screams get louder. "MASTER! MASTER!" he calls now, gasping for air in between shouts._

_"Oh, fuck, I think you made it worse…" Kenh'laith grimaces._

_"GAH! This is too much PRESSURE!"_

_"Uh, anyone else got any bright ideas?" Kenh'laith looks around dubiously._

_"Ooh!" Crimson suddenly pipes up. "I can try and cauterize the wound with my fire spell?" she announces, a proud smile coming over her features._

_"That's… actually not a terrible idea."_

_She kneels down next to the dying Dwarf and rubs her hands together, saying a few words. "Okay… let's do this."_

_*Red rolls a one*_

_Suddenly, flames explode out from her hands, uncontrolled rage pouring out into every nook and cranny of the room. Red hot tendrils of fire spread rapidly through the entire floor, threatening to engulf the entire party. They all flee for the door, with varying levels of success._

_*Cartman rolls an eleven*_

_*Tweek rolls a sixteen*_

_*Kyle rolls a seventeen*_

_*Stan rolls a three*_

_*Kenny rolls a ten*_

_*Bebe rolls a seventeen*_

_Most of the party manage to escape unscathed as they suddenly clamber out of the tiny doorframe and attempt to get away from the rapidly rising temperature. On the way out, Stan's legs catch the tail end of the flames, temporarily crippling him for the next few rounds._

_The flames take a good ten seconds to fully clear out, smoke filling the lungs of the travellers. Once it's diminished, the only sound left in the room are the errant coughs of each traveller, and Sir Stanley's pained moans as he grabs his legs._

_"Uh… everyone alright?" Crimson asks sheepishly. "Sorry."_

_"Well that was a flop…" Kylor sighs. "If he wasn't dead before, he definitely is now._ _"_

_"Is that a win or a lose for us?" Kenh'laith looks around, confused by the turn of events. "I forget."_

_"A lose!" Sir Stanley cries out from where he's lain on the floor, unable to move his legs for the time being. "Definitely a lose!" he coughs. "Bullweiner… you must carry me, for I am paralysed momentarily by injuries of flame."_

_"Fuck that!" Bullweiner roars in defiance. "No! Get your butt-buddy elf over here to carry you, queermo."_

_"Urgh…" Sir Stanley makes a noise of irritation but turns to Kylor inquisitively. "Kylor? Little help?" he tries._

_Kylor scowls, his arms folded. "Timeout."_

_The collective groan goes up._

* * *

"What's the problem?" Craig asks, barely bothering to hide his open contempt.

"Can I really do that?" Kyle asks. "Can I just carry him on my back?"

Craig shrugs. "Yeah, nothing in the rule book that says you can't," he grumbles. "And it's not like we're really _following_ D&D rules anyway…"

"Well, how am I supposed to fight with him on my back?"

"Uh…" Craig blinks. "I'll just weaken you temporarily. You'll be slower. You can still cast spells and shit, and Stan'll be able to use his sword."

Kyle's eyes flitter back to Stan. "And… if I don't want to?"

Stan splutters. "Dude!"

"Oh, uh. Well, Stan will basically have to die, then. Because he's useless. So, unless you want him to die…"

Kyle looks between Stan and Craig for a few seconds, and then sighs in defeat. "Yeah, fine. Whatever. I'll carry him…" he mutters something underneath his breath.

Cartman honks with laughter. "You and your girlfriend just screwed all of us. You gotta pay the price!"

"Hey, fatass! _I_ didn't do anything! I'm just trying to win this stupid game!" Stan objects loudly. "I'm a victim here!"

He's met with a long period of silence.

Kenny breaks the news. "…dude, did you just identify yourself as Kyle's girlfriend?" Kenh'laith chuckles. " _Jesus_ , that's gay. Even for the two of you."

"No!" Stan goes bright red. "No, I… Cartman said that before…" he trails off. "ARGH! This is TOO STRESSFUL!" he exclaims, pulling his hat down below his brows.

"That's what I've been _saying_!" Tweek agrees, twitching all the while.

Craig taps his foot impatiently. "Can we get on with things now? Where were we…" he taps his foot in mock-thought. "Oh, yeah, Red just murdered someone out of sheer incompetence..."

* * *

_"I propose that we leave the body and go and explore upstairs," Kylor says sensibly, with a sage nod. "Nothing more we can do for him now."_

_"And I said that we murder Red for the murder of Barbrody!" Beefwiener exclaims, drawing his large axe, Gimli, out from it's holder. "Tribunal by combat!"_

_"Oh, God, can we cool it with all the wanton murder? I'm getting anxious…" Tweek croaks out, rocking back and forth in the corner, away from the rest of the group. "Can we get out of here?"_

_Sir Stanley coughs and gives Kylor a pointed look. "I'm not against a trial," he says, raising a brow. "Beides, it was really more of a group effort, don't you think?"_

_"I'm the only thing separating your ass from the floor right now, Sir Stanley," Kylor retorts, threateningly. "We're not having a trial."_

_"Fair enough."_

_Baetrice sighs, linking arms with her confidante - and lover - the human druid Kenh'laith. "Come on, Kenh'laith, let's go upstairs and check out the rest of this behemoth castle," she pauses. "Anyone want to join, feel free. If not, goodbye."_

_"Make haste, Kylor!" Stan yells, from atop his familiar._

_"I'm not a horse!" Kylor whines, but begrudgingly following the druid and the tavern wench. He moves slowly, given the conglomerate weight of Sir Stanley and all of his armor and weaponry, upon his small frame. "Fat fuck…" he murmurs to himself, but Sir Stanley pretends not to hear._

_The upstairs of the house is decorated with a similar, eerie brand of decrepitude as the downstairs. Blood is smeared across the walls; infesting their nostrils with its decaying scent. The carpet is threadbare on the upstairs landing – and there's at least six doors in front of them, all carved with different intricate pictures._

_The first one is carved with a picture of people burning; running away from a terrible but ambiguous monster. Their faces are carved to mimic explicit horror, screaming out in 3D as if they're about to jump out the door._

_"It looks like fire…"Baetrice eyes it a little cautiously. "Let's maybe not go in there," she says rather sensibly. "I quite like my skin."_

_"I like it too," Kenh'laith purrs, making the majority of the group cringe. With the exception of Crimson Arkax, who pokes her bottom lip out, disappointed._

_"C'mon, what's the next one have on it?" Kylor wonders._

_Tweek peers at it. "It looks like a carving of a little bunny rabbit," he points out._ _"Look, there's an inscription on the bottom," he notices. "Keep your eyes peeled on me; look away and you will pay," he recites, scratching his head. "I-is that another riddle?"_

_"Quick, Kylor, shoot it with your arrow!" Beefwiener laughs, poking a finger at Kylor. "Get it? Because it's a riddle?" he scowls. "Asshole."_

_"It sounds more like instructions to me," Kylor shrugs. "Let's look at the other doors."_

_In turn, they inspect each and every one of the doors._

_The third door along has a face carved into it, and an inscription down below._

\- _Poke your fingers in my eyes and my jaws will open wide. Linen cloth, quills, or paper, my greedy lust devours them all. What am I? –_

_"Poke your fingers in my eyes?" Baetrice narrows her eyes. "Fucking weird."_

_The fourth door is etched with a rather crudely-drawn picture of a triangle, with no explanation whatsoever. The group peers at it for a few seconds, before moving onto the new door._

_The fifth door contains a picture; not unlike the first door; except instead of people becoming burned by fire, they're visibly drowning in a wooden etched sea._

_And finally, the sixth door contains a very crudely etched 'KEEP OUT! MASTER BEDROOM' sign._

_"I think that's a bedroom…" Baetrice jerks a thumb towards it. "Do you think that it could be Master Garrison's bedroom?"_

_Kenh'laith shrugs. "Either way, I say we use the bunny door."_

_"We could… split up?" Sir Stanley suggests. "I mean, there's six doors. And since I'm still crippled, there's… six groups."_

_"Are... are we allowed?"_

* * *

"Can we do that? Split up?"

Craig sighs. "I wouldn't recommend it. But at the rate you're going, it'll probably speed things up."

"Sweet, so let's do it," Red cracks a smile. "We can all meet up afterwards and share information, right?"

"Provided that some of you don't die…" Craig warns, tapping his fingers together evilly. "Which is almost a _certainty_ with you idiot parading around…"

"I can resurrect people," Kenny points out. "So, who cares?"

Craig snorts. "Yeah, whatever. Who cares," he says, giving Tweek a side look. "Look… as much as I hate to _help_ any of you…" he sighs. "You can use a perception check when you enter a room. Depending on the score you roll, I'll reveal more about the room."

"Why is _now_ the first we're hearing of it?" Stan wonders.

"It's not my fault you didn't read the rule book I sent to all of you on Facebook!"

"I don't use Facebook…" Kenny replies.

"That's cause your family's too poor to afford a computer, dumbass," Cartman scoffs. "Look, can we get on with the game, please?"

Craig clears his throat. "Look, one more thing…" his eyes flicker towards Tweek. "You guys _really_ need to learn to _listen_ more," he says, his eyes flashing. "Tweek knew all the answers to the Dwarf's riddles, earlier. You guys were too busy _arguing_ to hear him."

"What the fuck?!" Cartman says incredulously. "Why didn't you speak up, you little twerp?!"

"I tried to!" Tweek gasps. "N-nobody was listening! The answer was a map."

"Shit, guys…" Stan swears. "Look, I'm sorry, Tweek. I swear I thought you were asking for a nap…"

"GAH! Why would think that?! I don't _sleep_!"

"I could probably believe that…" Kyle says under his breath, earning him an elbow from Stan.

"Look, we're all sorry, Tweek. Really," he sighs. "C'mon, guys. Let's do this without ignoring anyone, this time. And… less murder, please?" Stan says, gripping the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. "I have a feeling this is about to get good."

"Says you, who doesn't even have to _walk_ anywhere…" Kyle grumbles.

Stan ignores him. "Let's do this. Craig… how is it going to work?"

"You'll all do your turn one by one. Which is how DND _should_ work, if you guys ever got anything done…"

"Will we know what's happening to the other travellers?" Red wonders. "Like, in game? Will our characters know?"

"If anything important comes up, and only one person finds out – I'll whisper it to them as a secret. They can choose to tell anyone they want – provided that they meet that person, in game," Craig explains. "It's a disadvantage of playing separately but… whatever," he rolls his eyes. "Let's see what happens."

* * *

_"I want door one!" Crimson squeals. "It's got all the flames on. And I'm a pyromancer…"_

_Beefwiener snorts. "Yeah, we sort of figured. Y'know, after you burned down an entire room." He pauses, thoughtfully. "I want the KEEP OUT door. If that's really a bedroom, I'm going to teabag whoever is sleeping so hard…"_

_Kenh'laith chuckles "Well, if that's not the gayest thing you've ever said…"_

_"G-guys?" Tweek speaks up, nervous. "Um, why don't we do a perception check now? While we can all hear the answer…?" he wonders, his eyes flitting nervously around the group._

_Kylor sighs. "Fine."_

* * *

"So how is this suposed to work?" Kyle wonders. "We all independently roll?"

"This is dumb," Cartman growls.

"Oh, lighten up," Kyle rolls his eyes. "This is the most interesting thing that's happened all campaign, asshole."

Craig clears his throat and pokes his nose in his rulebook. "If you do a perception check now, you won't be able to do another one for a few rounds," he claims. "Everyone rolls. Everyone who rolls above a ten will have increased perception – which means that I'll whisper to each of them a secret about the doors."

"A-alright…" Tweek twitches.

"And if anyone rolls super high, I'll tell them something else," he smiles, a little evilly. "That cool?"

"Whatever, give me the dice."

_*Cartman rolls a two*_

_*Kyle rolls an eight*_

_*Stan rolls a twelve*_

_*Bebe rolls a nineteen*_

_*Kenny rolls a nine*_

_*Tweek rolls a four*_

_*Red rolls a ten*_

Craig nods. "Okay, Stan, Red and Bebe…" he says beckoning the three of them over to where he's standing. "Now, you can choose whether to tell the group about what you heard or not. It's up to you," he says.

Cartman grumbles. "Women's intuition…"

"Fine," Red says. "Spit it out."

The rest of the group watch impatiently as Craig whispers something to each of them in turn, hearing nothing but mumbles. "Cartman! Quit eavesdropping!"

"Why?" he whines. "We know you're gonna tell us anyway, gaywads."

"Can I maybe tell everyone except Cartman?" Stan asks dubiously, glaring at the boy from across the table.

Craig shrugs. "Whatever, man."

The three of them sit back down in their chairs, all looking rather smug with themselves.

"Well?" Kyle turns to Red immediately. "What was it?"

Red cackles. "I'm not telling. Ask your _girlfriend_ …" she grins, jerking her thumb over to Stan.

Kyle face turns red, but he does whip round to Stan. "Dude…"

"What? I don't have to tell you squat."

"Yes you do! Or I'll quit carrying you and you can die, how's _that_ sound?"

"Good point," Stan sighs, and then speaks to the whole room. "Look… basically, guys, there's numbers on the bottom of the doors."

He points the sheets of paper which Craig has crudely drawn on and references to a tiny little number on each one. "Apparently they mean something, but he didn't tell us what it meant."

"Isn't that just the order that the door was in?"

"No, dude. Look, this was the first door," he points to the door with all the fire. "But it says five."

"Fuck," Kenny swears.

Next to him, Bebe's phone lights up with a message from Craig. She frowns, her eyes flitting up to Craig – who flashes her an urgent look. She slinks her phone under the desk, and opens the message, making sure that Kenny can't see from where he's sitting. When she's finished reading, she sends Craig a subtle nod.

"Come on, guys, let's do the rest of this in character…"

* * *

_Crimson Arkax, Baetrice and Sir Stanley confer amongst themselves for a few seconds. They each realise something about the doors at the same time – they realise that each one of the doors has, underneath the inscriptions, a small number from 1-6 carved onto it._

_"What does that mean, though?" Kylor asks. "It has to mean something."_

_"They're not in order… look, the first door has the number five on it."_

_Each member of the group scratches their head. "Why does it have to mean anything? Maybe it's nothing…" Kenh'laith points out. "Could be nothing…?"_

_"He w-wouldn't have p-put it in, otherwise," Tweek stutters._

_"Could be a red herring, though?" Kylor wonders, his eyes scanning over the doors. "I say we ignore it."_

_"Shall we all pick a door?" Sir Stanley suggests. "And I'll share a door with Kylor… since I'm still, y'know. On his back…"_

_"Well, I'm sticking with the fire door," Crimson crosses her scaly arms in defiance – stubbornness was a proud trait of the Dragonborn, after all. "I don't care if it says number five."_

_"But… maybe the numbers are… order of difficulty?" Tweak suggests._

_"Ooh, good one," Kenh'laith nods. "I'm gonna take door numero uno…" he wanders over to the fourth door – the one with the triangle, and number one inscribed on the bottom. "What about you, babe?" he asks Bebe, who has a thoughtful look on her face._

_"I want number four."_

_Nobody notices Tweak's eyes narrow, watching her closely as she strides confidently towards her door. "Th-then I'll take…" he frowns, his eyes flickering between door four and three. "I'll take… this one," he says, pointing at the second door – the one with the number '3' on it._

_"Weirdo…" Beefwiener shrugs. "I'm sticking with this one," he jerks his thumb towards the final door, which has the number 6 inscribed on it. "Sixth door, number six. 666. 69. It's the best number."_

_Kenh'laith snorts. "Solid logic there, fatass."_

_"Says Mr. I Am Number One," Cartman says in a mocking voice. "You're just jealous of my door, asshole."_

_"Well, I'm still going for number two," Stan growls. "If Kenny's taking number one, then I want the second-best door."_

_Kylor shrugs in agreement. "Whatever, sure. It's not like I have any idea what I'm doing," he points out. "So… I guess let's do this."_

_Stan and Kyle step through their door, finding themselves in a large room – larger than it should have been from the outside. It's almost completely empty – except for a few chairs in the corners. "Uh… what the fuck?" Sir Stanley says, uncharacteristically swearing. "Uh… I mean, what is the meaning of this empty room?!" he frowns, turning to Kylor for some sort of explanation. "It's just empty."_

_At that moment, both Sir Stanley and elf Kylor hear a strange scratching noise coming from underneath one of the chairs. They share a look. "What's that?"_

_"I want to investigate it," Kylor says, and crouches down on the floor. "It's…" he scratches his head. "It's just a bunny rabbit."_

_"A bunny?" Sir Stanley demands, kneeling down next to his elfen familiar. "Oh, well. So it is."_

_"What the hell is a-" Kylor starts, and then freezes. "Hang on…" he frowns. "A bunny!" he hisses to Stan. "There was a bunny carving on the door!" he says urgently._

_"Oh shit, what did the inscription say?" Stan frowns, tapping his forehead as he tries hard to remember. "Something about… something about… ooh! Dude! We have to keep looking at it! Or... look away and we'll pay."_

_"Don't take your eyes of it!"_

_The elf and the paladin stare at the bunny for a long time, probably about a whole minute, until both of them start to get watery eyes._

_"Uh, Craig?" Kylor says, after a short while. "Quick one…"_

* * *

Kyle and Stan continue to fix their glare upon the small, plastic statue of a bunny that Craig has placed on the table in front of them. Both of them are too stubborn to look up, Kyle voices his complaint while continuing to eye-fuck the little sculpture.

"Um, how the fuck long do we have to do this?" he asks. "Realistically. Because my eyes hurt."

"Until your next go," Craig laughs. "You both wasted your turn crawling under the chair to see the damn thing. It was going to come out in a second," he rolls his eyes. "That's what you get for splitting up, assholes."

Stan shrugs. "It's not so bad. It's kind of cute."

Red grins. "Hey Kyle?" she smiles. "I'm flashing you right now…"

"I _know_ you aren't," Kyle says haughtily. "Red, _why_ are you trying to kill me?"

"Every man for himself…" she snorts.

"Hey _Kyle_!" Cartman pipes up, piggybacking on her joke. "I'm motorboating your girlfriend! She's got sweet tits! Might give one of 'em a honk."

Kyle growls. "Hey, Stan? You mind covering me? I'm gonna beat the shit out of Cartman real quick…"

"No!" Stan exclaims, flapping his arms around. "Don't! We don't know if you'll die, and you're my ride!"

Kyle begins to complain, but then he hears the satisfying sound of Red's hand smacking Cartman's cheek. He sits back in his seat, smugly satisfied in the conclusion of that frank exchange.

"Ay!" Cartman cries out. "I'll kill you, bitch!"

"END OF TIMEOUT!" Craig yells out, suddenly ferociously. "NO MORE BEATING EACH OTHER UP!

Cartman scowls, rubbing his rapidly reddening cheek while he glares at Red. "Keep your panties on…"

* * *

_\- *meanwhile* -_

_The orc Beefwiener enters his room, next. Inside the room, there is indeed a man, asleep on a four poster bed. Only the back of the head of the man is visible from the doorframe, but the Orc creeps forward to take a closer look._

_Not wanting to wake the slumbering man, Beefwiener silently pulls of his pantaloons and creeps towards the side of the bed._

_*Cartman rolls a seventeen*_

_He gently lowers his lower body down onto the man's face – careful not to wake him – in a series of up and down motions. He giggles with the enjoyment of the act – though luckily, his giggles, nor his teabags, manage to wake the sleeping man underneath him._

_Afterwards, he takes a step to enjoy his handiwork._

_"All in a day's work," he sighs, satisfied._

_\- *meanwhile* -_

_Crimson Arkax bursts into her door in a flurry – her hands already ready with flames. As soon as the door shuts behind her, the room goes black._

_The floor opens up._

_She's freefalling – one, two… no, ten seconds._

_What does she do?_

_What_ can _she do?_

_When she finally lands, it's not on solid ground. Instead, she splashes into what feels like the bottom of a well; submerging her body in freezing cold, dirty water. It surrounds her; sending her into shock as her skin adapts to its new icy reality._

_She can't see. It's pitch black, wherever she is – and her feet aren't touching the ground._

_She attempts to cast her fireballs to create some light to see around her._

_*Red rolls a four*_

_Unfortunately, her fire gets extinguished immediately by all the water around her. Crimson Arkax - being a dragonborn - begins to sink._

_\- *meanwhile* -_

_Tweek enters his room with his characteristic nervousness. "H-hello?" he calls into the room, hearing the click shut behind him and shuddering hard. "Oh crap, oh crap. Oh crap."_

_Inside the room, there is nothing except a single piece of paper. Tweek inspects it, but it's completely blank. "Shit!" he swears. "Can I leave the room? I need to grab something first…"_

_He attempts to jostle the lock, but to no avail. It's firmly locked._

_"I need a pair of scissors! It's scissors!" he calls out. "The answer… to the riddle…" he frowns. "Poke your fingers in my eyes and my jaws will open wide." he pauses. "Look, I figured it out, alright? The numbers... they were signalling which door the pictures were referring to! My door said '3', which was the one with the scissors riddle! Jesus! Don't I get a-anything?"_

_He's met with silence._

_"Fuck!"_

_\- *meanwhile* -_

_Kenh'laith enters his room with the uncertainty of a man whose just learned that he's probably going to enter a room which is on fire._

_"GAH!" he screams out, as the orange flames engulf him._

_He dies of asphyxiation in seconds as the smoke creeps up his windpipe._

\- *meanwhile* -

_The tavern wench Baetrice enters her room and looks around. "Hm," she hums, taking her time to inspect the place up and down. "Okay..." she says to herself, thoughtfully. Her room isn't so much a room - it's more a hallway, leading to further rooms up ahead of the place. She takes a look around, and quickly realises that there's only one other room which leads to the same hallway. She narrows her eyes, and then tries the door - nothing happens._

_She thoughtfully pulls a hairslide from her hair and attempts to pick the lock._

_*Bebe rolls a fourteen*_

_With some difficulty, Baetrice uses her significant talents and manages to force the lock to open. In the process, her only hairslide becomes damaged and unable to use again. In front of her, the door swings open to reveal Tweak inside, rocking back and forward in the corner._

_"Scissors! It was scissors!" he's saying over and over. He stops when he sees Baetrice curiously observing him from her door. "Oh, h-hey Baetrice. So, you figured it out, I guess? About the doors?"_

_She snorts. "No. Craig told me to pick the triangle door, so I did."_

_"O-oh," Tweek nods, and then laughs. "I-I figured that he told you something, and you p-picked the triangle door. So I figured that must be the right door."_

_"Yeah, what the fuck is with all the triangles, anyway?" she asks, frowning._

_Tweek blinks at her. "The scroll of... Hypotenuse?" he says. "They're all right angle triangles... JESUS!" he suddenly yells. "Am I the only one who noticed? That's so much pressure!"_

_"Ooh, right!" Baetrice nods, and then frowns. "What's a hypoptenuse?"_

_"H-hypotenuse. The long end of a triangle," he picks the paper up from the middle of the room and waves it about. "I'm pretty sure that I'm supposed to cut this into a right_ angle _triangle for some reason. B-but I don't have any scissors..."_

_"Oh, right," Baetrice shrugs. "Whatever. Let's go find some."_

_"W-what about the others?"_

_She laughs. "Okay, fine. We can wait."_

_\- *meanwhile* -_

_"How long do we have to stare at this stupid bunny?!" Sir Stanley yells out, his fists balled to his sides. "Kyle, you keep watching, I'm gonna try the door again."_

_"Fine," Kylor says through his teeth. "And... it's Kylor."_

_"Whatever," Sir Stanley says, yanking on the door. He draws his sword and tries to slice through it._

_*Stan rolls a nineteen*_

_Stan's efforts against the door are valiant, but it doesn't budge. It's almost as if it's been cursed with an ancient and dreadful spell, preventing it from opening unless exposed to the same kind of magic which created it. "For fuck's sake..."_

_"Oh, screw it," Kylor says. He pulls his arrow again from his quiver and, without once taking his eyes off it, shoots the thing in the face._

_There's a short silence, and then Kylor suddenly turns to face Stan, who is as white as a sheet. "Before you start, dude..." Kylor fixes him a look, holding up his hands in defence. "I'm pretty sure that was literally the only way out without dying..." he says. "And besides. It's only an imaginary rabbit."_

_"But we still don't have a way out!" Stan points out. "Look, I'm just going to attack the walls with my sword until they break down."_

_Kylor looks the wall up and down. "Yeah, screw it. Why not?"_

_*Stan rolls a twenty*_

_Stan's sword attacks the - apparently flimsy - castle drywall with vigour and vim. His slashes from left to right eventually cause a small opening in the wall, which both of the travellers use as leverage to kick and push their way open into a sizable hole._

_Kylor steps through first, careful not to get any of the drywall in his hair. And then Stanley follows, almost tripping as he squeezes through the small gap they've created. On the other side, they find Tweek and Baetrice sitting on a step in the hallway. "Nice of you to join us," Baetrice says with a grin._

_Sir Stanley of the Marshlands looks back at the room they've just left. In the room, there lies a single, dead bunny - with blood strewn across the floor. In the wall, there's a hole about the size of a Paladin knight. And the whole place still smells of burning from their little... accident, in the kitchen._

_He turns to Kyle and opens his mouth to speak. "Do you ever think that maybe..." he starts, scratching his temple. "...we're the bad guys, here?"_


End file.
